The Return
by Princess Pat
Summary: Takes place after Tom returns to Downton after his stay in Boston. He and Mary have a confusing moment that makes them both question how things stand
1. The Picnic

The day after Tom's arrival back at Downton Mary and Edith arranged a picnic to welcome Tom and Sybbie back home. Tom had loved the idea, and with a few directions given to Mrs. Patmore and the new housemaids, the three parents and their three children took to the gardens of Downton together.

"I still can't believe you're really here," Edith said, as they enjoyed their sandwiches.

"Why? Because you missed me so much?" Tom said with a wink.

"We did miss you," Mary insisted. "You'll never know how much," she said, looking at Sybbie.

"I hope it's as much as we missed all of you," Tom answered. He thought for a moment then shook his head. "I couldn't keep Sybbie away from you all. Every day she was asking where George was. It nearly broke my heart," he said with a reminiscent grin.

"I'm glad," Mary declared.

"George and Marigold kept asking us when Sybbie would be coming home," Edith put in. "Neither Mary nor I knew how to answer them."

Tom smiled. "Now they don't need to ask. Things are as they should be." Mary smiled, but Edith looked a little uncomfortable. A few minutes later she decided to take Marigold for a stroll, and Tom and Mary remained on the blanket, enjoying the sunshine. Tom lay on his back and Mary sat next to him as the children toddled nearby.

"I am so very, very happy you're home, Tom."

"Oh, Mary," he sighed, "if you only knew how much I dreamed of a moment like this when I was at Boston," he smiled, put his hands behind his head, and looked up to the sky.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked after a moment. "You seem to be a million miles away."

"Do you sometimes wish we could just hold a moment in time and come back to it whenever we like?" Tom asked dreamily.

"You're being very sentimental," Mary smiled.

"It's because for the first time in a long time, I'm happy. I'm back at Downton, Sybbie is where she belongs, and all is right with the world."

"I'm not quite sure that I can agree with that statement," Mary said. Tom half rolled over and met her eyes. "No moment in time is ever truly perfect," she concluded.

"This one is," he declared. Without thinking he leaned forward and kissed her. It was impulsive and took Mary by complete surprise – but it lasted several seconds before Mary remembered herself and pulled back. She didn't speak.

"That kind of took me by surprise too," Tom said, sitting up.

"Tom – I – what was that?"

"I honestly don't know. It's been such a perfect day and you were looking so beautiful I just… I just wanted to kiss you. It just… happened." He looked back at Sybbie who was finishing her dessert.

"But – Tom…" she never finished her thought as Edith returned a second later.

"Well, did you leave us any cake?" Edith asked as Marigold toddled towards her cousins. Mary and Tom exchanged a glance before turning their attention away.

"I don't know," Mary answered her sister. "You'll have to ask Miss Sybbie."

"I think we can find some cake for Miss Marigold if we look really hard," Tom answered, directing the young girl to the picnic basket. Mary watched him in amazement. He was completely focused on the little girl and was so good with her. For the first time she started to look at Tom differently. He was very handsome, and so loving. Mary felt for a moment that she was seeing him the way Sybil had once done.


	2. Confusion

Edith and Tom enjoyed the rest of the afternoon playing with the children while Mary observed them from afar. She was far too confused by what had happened to participate in their stories, but just smiled and watched as they continued to enjoy the afternoon.

As they returned from their picnic, Mary's head was still in a fog. She and Tom hadn't had any time to speak over what had happened and practically as soon as the three returned the gong was sounded and they all headed upstairs to change for dinner. Tom had barely met her eyes the entire walk back – he had been completely focused on the children, yet she couldn't stop thinking about his lips upon hers, and how strange and unexpected that moment had been. She thought of it over and over again.

Tom had kissed her. Why? What did it mean? Did he have feelings for her? They'd started calling each other brother and sister. He was her brother-in-law, her sister's widower. Oh Sybil, what would you think of this?

She stopped in her tracks at the thought. Sybil. Her favorite sister, so beloved by everyone... she had been the first person Mary had thought of, not Matthew. Odd. Every man she'd spent time with since Matthew's death, Matthew had always been there. She had always heard his question: is this man good enough for my Mary and George? She didn't hear that question about Tom. She knew Matthew approved of Tom.

She shook her head as she entered her room. What was she thinking? It was one kiss - done impulsively without plan. Hardly a proposal of marriage. She suddenly started to feel angry. Everything had been going so well and then Tom had to step in and confuse her.

* * *

"Did you enjoy the picnic, my lady?" Anna asked as she arranged the dress for the evening.

"Very much. Mrs. Patmore did herself proud with that chocolate cake." Mary tried to sound as nonchalant as ever, yet she was still thinking over the feeling of Tom's lips against hers. How soft and sweet the sensation had been.

"I'll be sure and tell her," Anna responded. She stopped and looked in the mirror. "My lady, is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Mary repeated the word with almost a laugh. Yes – she thought – what had happened was most definitely wrong. He was her brother-in-law.

"You have a funny look on your face," Anna observed.

"Something happened this afternoon that I just don't understand," Mary said. Anna waited. "Tom kissed me."

"Mr. Branson?" Anna was surprised.

"Yes. Tom Branson. Estate manager, father of Sybbie, former chauffeur, and husband to my late sister. That Tom Branson."

"He kissed you?" Anna couldn't quite believe it. "How did it happen?"

"I don't know, really. Edith had gone for a walk, Tom and I were talking and then he kissed me."

"What? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Mary nodded. "Oddly enough, I think it surprised even him."

"Do you think it meant anything?" Anna asked.

"I honestly don't know. He and I have been such good friends… he's been the brother I never had… but I never thought…" she trailed off and looked out the window. Anna knew better than to respond. Suddenly Mary realized what she had said and shook her head out of the reverie. "I'm sorry, I know you will keep the secret, so I won't insult you by asking."

Anna smiled. "I shouldn't let it bother you, my lady," Anna said as she gathered up the discarded clothes. "Sometimes funny things just happen. And if, as you say, he was as surprised as you by it, then I wouldn't over-analyze the situation. It would just make things more awkward."

"Yes, that's sensible," Mary agreed. "Enough, we shall talk no more about it."

"Yes, my lady."


	3. At the Office

Mary took Anna's advice and tried not to let that strange moment affect her relationship with Tom. She was determined that the two parent their children and co-manage the estate as if nothing had happened. Except that they were rarely alone together. Whenever they were, Mary tried to fill the silence with talks of the estate. Barely twenty-four hours after the picnic Mary and Tom were at the agent's office, going over the budget for the new year.

"With the new tenant at Yewtree farm, we can expect roughly the same income we had from the Drewes," Tom said. Mary gave him a look. "I know, I know, but it was the right thing to do."

"Very well," she said. "No changes to the budget in that direction. Where are we with the cows at the grange?"

"I've spoken with Palmer and he's rebuilding the fence. And how much longer are we going to talk about cows and pigs before we discuss what happened yesterday?"

Mary fixed him with a stare. "Do we need to discuss it?"

"So your plan is just to pretend it never happened. Well, that may work for you, but it won't work for me," he said, leaning against the desk.

"Alright," she said calmly, "I'd be interested in an explanation, if you have one."

Tom chuckled a little at her stature. She was so proud and proper, the way she spoke she might be addressing parliament, rather than asking her brother-in-law why he'd kissed her. She raised an eyebrow. "Something funny?"

"For once in your life, Lady Mary, will you lighten up?" he said as he stepped towards her. "I mean, yes, I kissed you. And no, I don't really have an explanation for it, but is it really the end of the world?"

In spite of herself, Mary smiled. "I was upset," she admitted. "And confused. But it's not fair of me to place all the blame on you. You kissed me, but I kissed you back."

"Yes, I noticed that too," he said, walking over to the bookcase where she stood. He leaned against it. "And that moment was perfect. The one after it was not," he laughed, "but that one moment was perfect." Mary smiled and met his eyes as he came nearer. He thought for a moment and they both studied each other. Finally he started to lean towards her. She tilted her head back. Their lips inched together...

"Excuse me," a voice came from the office door. They both stopped and turned towards it. Mr. Mason stood there, holding a small basket of vegetables. "I wanted to thank you – and the staff at the abbey – for allowing me to have the farm," he said. Tom stepped away from Mary and greeted the man with a friendly smile. Without blinking he accepted the basket and started to talk to him about the pig farm.

Mary's mind was racing. They had very nearly kissed a second time! And much to her own amazement, she had _wanted_ it to happen. She had been in such a daze since he had first kissed her, and yet she wanted him to do it again! What was happening? Was she actually starting to fall for her brother-in-law?

Tom watched her even as old Mason talked to him. He privately smiled at her exasperation. She was torn by impatience and embarrassment. She waited for a break in their conversation and politely excused herself. She left the office and walked out into the afternoon sun. Tom called after her but she went anyway.


	4. The Children

Mary walked straight back to the house, as quickly as possible. She didn't want Tom to catch up to her, she needed time to think and breathe.

Breathe, she thought. Just breathe.

She wondered at that thought – it was the same advice Tom had given her right after Matthew had died. She had wanted to crawl down and be buried right alongside Matthew, but Tom had told her to just keep breathing – not focus on anything else – just keep breathing. That advice had steadied her. And hour after awful hour turned into day after awful day and then week after awful week… she had just kept breathing. Because Tom had told her to.

He had told her not to focus on anything except breathing, because – as he knew, the pain could be paralyzing if you let yourself dwell on it. Tom was the one that had gotten her through it. Tom, always Tom.

She shook her head, willing the thoughts out of her head. She was NOT falling for her brother-in-law. She couldn't. Sybil was her most beloved sister and she had died giving Tom a child. And beyond that, what of Matthew? He had loved Tom like a brother – Tom had even been best man at their wedding – and… and…

She was back at the house before she knew it. For some reason she went straight upstairs and into the nursery. She wanted to see George. She wanted to see her and Matthew's only son. The heir to Downton. But when she opened the door she found George and Sybbie engaged in a game of Simon Says. The two were both beaming so warmly that she hated to disturb them. They looked so natural together. Almost like brother and sister. She watched the two play together and a sort of trance came over her. She wasn't sure how long she watched before a voice spoke behind her.

"They do look well together, don't they?" a familiar Irish accent sounded. She looked behind her and saw Tom had been watching them as well. She wondered how long he had been there.

"I didn't know you were here," she said, stiffening up.

"I followed you back from the office," he said, moving towards the nursery door and closing it slightly so as not to disturb the children. "Why did you leave?"

Mary let out a breath she didn't quite realize she had been holding. "I don't know. I just felt I had to get out of that stuffy office as quickly as I could. And I needed the walk back to – to – clear my head."

Tom met her eye and she could tell he wasn't buying it. Thankfully, Nanny came out of the nursery at just that moment.

"Beg pardon, my lady," she nodded at Mary, "sir," she nodded at Tom, "But could one of you stay with the children for a few minutes. I asked for their dinners to be sent up early but they haven't arrived yet."

"Certainly," Tom answered with a smile. "Lady Mary and I will stay with the children."

"Not me, I'm afraid," Mary spoke up. "I'm afraid I need to clean up after the walk home. But Mr. Branson will take charge," Tom looked at her in surprise. "I've no doubt." With that she turned and headed down the hall towards her own room.

Tom sighed to himself as he watched her leave. Another opportunity gone. There was no doubt about it at all anymore – if she hadn't been avoiding him before, she certainly was now.


	5. Realization

Mary returned to her room, still unsure over what had happened. Her own emotions had surprised her and she was rather cross as she rang for Anna to help her change. She didn't feel in control, and she didn't like it when she wasn't in control.

Anna could tell something was amiss, but Lady Mary wasn't ready to confide in her. Anna suspected the cause must be Mr. Branson, but knew better than to press.

* * *

Back in the nursery, Tom watched the children and thought over what had happened. Or nearly happened. He had very nearly kissed Mary back at the office. If old Mason hadn't happened upon them at that very moment he would have. Why was he suddenly having these impulses? Mary was his sister-in-law and he had honestly never thought of her romantically before.

Or had he?

She was his best friend and if he was completely honest, she had been on his mind more than anyone else. He had missed her so much in Boston that he had packed up Sybbie and returned. He had told himself that it was homesickness, but it was Mary. Being near her made him feel at home. She was the one he wrote to the most, she was the one he had missed the most. He wasn't at home in Boston because she wasn't there.

"I love her," he said aloud. He couldn't quite accept it, but he had said it. He loved Mary. And not just loved, he was IN LOVE. He was in love with Mary.

Sybbie turned to him in surprise. Tom's eyes widened as he realized his daughter had heard him. "Who do you love, Daddy?" she asked.

"I love you, sweetheart," he said, covering his declaration as best he could. Sybbie smiled and turned back to George. Tom took a step backwards and wondered over his saying it out loud. He loved Mary. Somehow it had happened, and there would be no denying it now.

But what next?

Tom walked back to his own room shortly thereafter in complete bewilderment. The realization that he loved Mary did not make things simple. She was still his sister-in-law and on top of it, she was avoiding him. He supposed he'd have to tell her, but what would her reaction be? She had been so confused when he kissed her, and then angry. If he told her he loved her all of her shields would go up.

His eyes fell on the photograph he kept at his bedside. "Oh, Sybil," he looked at her smiling face, "please help me."

Oddly, he felt a sense of calm come over him. He supposed he should feel guilty, admitting – even if only to himself – that he had developed feelings for his late wife's sister… Yet he didn't feel guilty. In fact, he felt… what was the word? Approval. Sybil would not have approved of Edna, nor Sarah, he realized. But Mary? Tom felt he could almost hear her laugh.

"Well," he said to the photograph with a smile, "with your blessing then, I know what I have to do."


	6. Dinner and Some Lemonade

At dinner that night Mary could feel Tom's eyes upon her. She knew he wanted to speak with her, but she just was not ready for that conversation. Instead she focused on everybody else. Bertie Pelham was up to visit and there was a lot of talk about the past shooting party.

"We haven't heard from Henry Talbot in a while," her mother lightly suggested.

"I have," Mary declared with a bit of pride. "He is coming to York for a race tomorrow and will be stopping by for tea," she informed everyone.

"Very good, excellent chap," Robert declared. "He improved the numbers very well last autumn."

"Is it getting serious?" Cora asked her daughter.

"I hope so," Mary replied, finally meeting Tom's eyes for the first time that evening.

Tom felt his stomach drop. That glance at him said everything. Henry was in, Tom was out.

He didn't even bother to try and speak to Mary after dinner. There was no point. Mary had made it clear that she didn't want his attentions and had dismissed him. He retired early and went upstairs to think – and drink – alone.

Dismissed. And he hadn't even been allowed to speak. He had only realized his feelings that afternoon, and she would not hear them. And she had dismissed him as though he was another Lord Gillingham or Charles Blake. That angered him. He deserved more than that.

Why was he surprised? He asked himself. Lady Mary is famous for breaking hearts.

After drinking himself into a stupor, Tom collapsed and spent an uneasy night, all the while trying NOT to think about Mary.

* * *

For her part, Mary was certain she had done the right thing. Tom had been confusing her, and she hated to be confused. She wanted to be in control. That was why she had stated so loudly and firmly that she hoped to have things develop with Henry Talbot. It was the right thing to do. Tom's confusing actions were making her half-mad and she had to stop them before anything else happened.

Besides, she told herself, nothing could ever happen between them in the end. They had no future together.

That was what she told herself, anyway, as she too drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

The next day Edith, Mary, and Bertie were walking in the gardens. Nanny had brought the children down for some lemonade, and Tom was with Sybbie. Marigold was with Nanny, and George was with Barrow. They were all awaiting the arrival of Mr. Talbot, and Tom was still in a bad mood over the whole thing. But he couldn't speak to Mary about it. All he could do was focus on his little girl and try not to be too distracted by his snobby sister-in-law.

Okay, that was not fair, he admitted to himself. He was in love with Mary, and she was distancing herself from him. That doesn't make her a snob. Cold and distant, but that's not the real Mary. Those are her defenses. Oh, he chose a complicated one when he fell in love with Mary… that's for certain.

His thoughts were interrupted by a fussy George who screamed to be put down and Barrow – completely out of breath – complied. What happened next happened incredibly fast.

George started running towards Mary, and ran across the gravel driveway. He slipped, and fell, his legs badly scraped. Just then Henry Talbot came driving up in his car. He slammed on his brakes but the car still slid forward towards the hapless George.

Mary screamed.

Tom dropped the lemonade, the cups shattered on the pavement. He ran towards the boy and picked him up and pulled him clear just as the car was about to hit him.

Still clutching his little nephew tightly, Tom tried to catch his breath. He hadn't even planned what he did, he just reacted. He looked back at Mary who started to spin around slowly. "Bertie, catch her!" he called. Edith turned towards her sister in surprise, but she and Bertie didn't have time. Mary collapsed on the ground in a faint.


	7. Awakening

_**Author's Note: I'll be honest, I'm a little disappointed. Two new chapters, three chapters rewritten, and not ONE review? Come on, guys, I know people are reading this because I've seen followers and notifications rise… so please, please PLEASE leave a review!**_

* * *

She couldn't have been out for more than a few minutes. When she awoke Bertie was fanning her with his hat, and Tom was still holding George. Henry was nowhere to be seen. "What – what happened?"

"You fainted," Tom said, unwilling to put down his nephew, although the cuts on George's legs were bleeding all over.

"George!" Mary gasped, seeing her son.

"Easy," Bertie said, helping Mary to sit up.

She couldn't hold her impatience, even as Bertie steadied her. "Tom, is he alright?"

"Minus some bad scrapes and the shock of a lifetime, he's fine," Tom soothed her and brought her son to the ground so she could hold him.

"Sit quietly for a moment," Edith advised. "I'll have some water fetched for you…"

"No!" Mary rocked her only child in her arms. "I don't need water. Just give me a moment!" She let the tears come into her eyes. All of her shields were down. She just clung tightly to her little boy and offered up prayer after prayer that he was alright.

The pain of George's cut legs were stinging him and that together with the shock of what had just happened left the young boy crying his eyes out.

"George, darling, Mummy loves you. Mummy loves you so very much!" she clung so tightly to him that he was soon squirming to be free.

"Mummy, my legs! They hurt!" he wailed.

"I'll bet they do," Edith said, glancing at the cuts. "What do you think, Bertie?" she asked.

"They're going to need stitches," Bertie answered. It was only then that Mary looked down and realized that both she and Tom had blood on their clothes. She had been so relieved that her son was not hit by the car that she hadn't noticed how badly his legs had been injured.

"Yes, I think you're right," Tom agreed. Mary still clung to her son protectively. "Come on, Mary. I'll drive you both to the village."

Mary looked down stupidly for a moment. Without thinking Tom leaned down and helped Mary to her feet, knowing she couldn't put down George now if her life depended on it. Bertie instantly helped her from the other side and between the two of them they got Mary and George into the car. Within minutes Tom sped off.

"Well," Edith said as they watched the car depart, "I'm guessing you didn't anticipate quite the excitement in Yorkshire."

Bertie smiled. "He's a sturdy little chap, I'm sure he'll be alright."

"And Mary?" Edith asked as they watched the car disappear from sight.

"You do care," Bertie gave her a knowing smile. Edith couldn't help but smile a little.

"That was a heart attack none of us needed," she said as they turned back to the house.

"Yes, but it has a happy ending. Thanks to your brother-in-law."

"Yes," Edith nodded. "Thanks to Tom."

* * *

As the car sped along towards the village Mary started to feel her senses coming back to her. She loosened her grip around her son, much to George's relief. She looked over at Tom, who was concentrating on the drive ahead.

"Where did Henry go?" she asked, almost absent mindedly.

"Oh, Henry," Tom smiled a bit, despite the strain of the last few minutes. "Poor bloke, he felt damned awkward about what happened. He made sure you were alright then politely excused himself."

"It wasn't his fault," Mary said, looking out the windows. George had stopped crying for the moment and she and Tom drove on in companionable silence for a minute.

"Thank you, Tom."

"For what?" he asked, making a turn.

"For what?" she repeated in amazement. "For saving George! God only knows, if you hadn't been there..." she started to lose her breath at the memory.

"Don't go down that road, Mary," he said, looking at her. "I was there. And somehow I managed to be fast enough."

"I don't know how you managed to do it," she said, kissing her son's head. "You must have cleared 50 yards in 4 seconds."

"Do you really want to know how I did it?" he asked.

"You can explain it?"

"I think I can. I think Matthew helped." There, he'd said it aloud. That power that had taken over his body and made him react so quickly. He'd given it a name. He wasn't sure how Mary would react, but to his surprise, she smiled.

"Matthew," she repeated, not questioning his answer at all.

"I think he saw to it that I would reach his son in time."

"I believe you," she said.


	8. In Hospital

_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! I read and appreciate every single one. I know I kind of guilted you into it last chapter, but I hope I continue to receive more! Honestly, it's what keeps me going. I posted this first chapter on a whim, and thought about taking it down the next morning, but when I checked I already had four reviews. It's the reviews that have encouraged me to write this much, please keep the feedback coming!_

* * *

They hurried George into the hospital where he was quickly seen by Dr. Clarkson. Mary felt herself go weak at the knees as her son was taken away from her, but Tom held onto her arm strongly.

"How bad is it?" Tom asked when Dr. Clarkson returned. Mary looked up in concern.

"His left ankle is sprained, and he'll need stitches on both legs. The nurses are prepping him for that right now."

"How long should that take?" Mary asked.

"The procedure will be over within a half an hour… the tricky part is that he will have to stay off his feet for at least a day."

"That's not easy with a four-year-old," Tom said.

"I believe it," Dr. Clarkson agreed.

"What are you saying?" Mary asked, still impatient.

"I think the boy should stay here overnight. Then you can take him back home tomorrow, but he will still have to take things easy for another few days."

"I'm not leaving him alone," Mary declared.

"If you want to stay, you're certainly able to, Lady Mary," Dr. Clarkson said with understanding. "I'm afraid it won't be very comfortable, there's only two chairs in Master George's room... but you'll be very welcome."

"Of course she'll stay," Tom agreed. "I'll run back to the house and get a change of clothes for her and something to eat."

Dr. Clarkson nodded and left the two alone. Mary sat down in a rush.

"He's alright, Mary," Tom said evenly. "That's the important thing."

"He will be, anyway," she agreed. "I don't like him in surgery."

"He's not in surgery, Mary," he lightly chided her. "A few stitches. He'll be up and running about the house before you know it." Mary looked up at her brother in law with something between frustration and encouragement.

"I know you're right. I just… I hate having him out of my sight."

"Do you want me to wait with you until it's over?" he offered.

"No," she shook her head. "I'll be alright. I think I spotted a pot of coffee in the corridor. You return to the house for now. There's no need for both of us to be sitting here worrying."

"I will go," he agreed. "But I'll be back soon." He kissed her cheek and left her smiling.

* * *

On his drive back Tom wondered over all that had happened within the past hour. How quickly things could change. He no longer had any personal agenda. He just wanted to keep Mary as calm as possible, and let the family know that George was not seriously injured.

As soon as he pulled into the drive he found Edith and Bertie running up to him for news. It was clear that Mary hadn't thought to telephone, but that didn't really surprise him.

"What news? How is he?" Edith asked, her concern for her young nephew obvious upon her face.

"A sprained ankle and some stitches," Tom dutifully reported.

"Oh thank God," Bertie breathed. Edith's sigh of relief was evident.

"You better tell Papa," Edith said. "He and Mama have been keeping vigil at the telephone."

"Edith," Bertie chided, "your brother-in-law is still covered in blood. Let him go upstairs and change. We'll go tell your parents."

"Yes," she agreed. "Yes, that makes sense. Thank you, Tom!" she kissed his cheek and then ran inside to spread the news.

Tom and Bertie smiled at each other. "How's Mary?" Bertie asked.

"Pretty badly shaken. But alright, all things considered. I – uh – I better go up and change," he said looking at the bloodstains on his shirt. "But tell Lord Grantham I'll be right down to see him." Bertie nodded and left.

Tom quickly made it to his room and changed. He privately gave thanks that Bertie had been there for Edith the same way he had been there for Mary. He had never realized before just how devoted Edith was to her little nephew. But then again… she is a mother too. He wondered if perhaps Bertie had picked up on her maternal nature with this near tragedy.

Tom changed very quickly and came downstairs to the library. He was surprised to find Lord Grantham alone, waiting for him.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"Cora and Edith still needed a little calming down," Robert said, pouring himself a sherry. "I sent Bertie out with them to clear their heads now that we know everyone's alright."

"Well," Tom said carefully, "I wouldn't say George is perfectly alright. He's sprained his ankle and he's getting stitches on both his legs as we speak," Robert met his eyes with worry. "But there's no permanent damage done. That's the important thing."

"Yes," Robert agreed thoughtfully. "Yes, you're right." Tom sat down across from him. "I wish I'd been there," he thought aloud. "But I don't suppose I could have done anything."

"No," Tom agreed. "It happened so fast. And it's just as well you weren't there. It shook all of us up who witnessed it. Henry Talbot couldn't even bear to stay around until Mary woke up."

"I do feel sorry for poor Talbot," Robert said. "The truth is almost killing Mary's son has put him in a rather awful situation."

"It wasn't his fault," Tom said.

"I know it wasn't. But the fact remains that Mary lost her husband in a car crash and she nearly lost her son in one. I don't think she'll have stomach for a racecar driver as a suitor going forward."

"No," Tom agreed.

"Was she very keen on him?" Robert asked his son-in-law.

"Well, you know Mary. She's so blasé about her romances… But I believe she'll be fine," Tom answered.

Lord Grantham nodded. He poured himself a drink and invited Tom to join him.

"I better not. I have to drive back to the hospital soon."

"You don't have to do that," Robert said. "We can surely send someone else…"

"No," Tom insisted. "I want to be there for Mary. The shock that she just went through… well, I just don't want her to be alone."

"Oh Tom, thank God for you. If it hadn't been for you grabbing George…"

Tom held up his hand. "There's no need for that," he said. "I'm so happy I happened to be fast enough."

Robert didn't appear to hear him. He continued to think aloud. "If anything happened to George… it would almost be as if Matthew had never been. All the work and love he put into this place… The only way it makes sense is for his son to inherit."

"It would have destroyed Mary," Tom observed.

"Yes," Lord Grantham agreed. "How on earth did you do it?" he asked. "Edith and Bertie said you practically flew to grab that little boy away from the car."

"I did it because I had to do it," Tom answered honestly. Robert raised his glass in a toast.


	9. Waiting

Back at the hospital, Mary's head was still spinning. George, her darling little boy, almost hit by a car. Almost killed. Just like his father had been. Just like Matthew…

She shook her head and forced herself to drink the cup of coffee she held in her hand. Breathe, she ordered herself, just breathe.

She wasn't very good at coping with crises. _Oh Matthew, where are you?_ She wanted to scream _. Our little boy. Our little prince, is in hospital. WHERE ARE YOU?_

Her emotions turned from fear to anger. Why wasn't Matthew here? Because he was stupid enough to drive straight into a lorry and get himself killed. She would never forgive him for that.

Angrily she dropped her coffee cup and started pacing the hallway. Privately, she went over every moment of George's life in her head while she walked up and down the hallway.

She was still pacing when Tom arrived.

Tom had brought with him a hamper of food and a change of clothes for Mary, but he had driven back to the hospital so fast and run up to her so quickly that he was nearly out of breath.

Not a word was spoken, as soon as she saw him, Mary went into his arms.

They held each other for a moment, Tom still holding the hamper in one hand. Then Mary backed away and regained her composure. "Thank you for coming back so fast," she said.

"I couldn't stay away for long," he said, putting the basket down on the floor beside them. "Is it over?"

Mary allowed herself to exhale. It was just stitches, after all. "No, not yet."

"Really?" Tom glanced at the operating doors with concern. Mary privately admired his reaction. He was almost as concerned as she was.

Just then Dr. Clarkson came in, smiling.

"Master George Crawley is all patched up, and is doing fine," he stated.

"He's alright?" Mary asked, needing reassurance. Tom smiled and came up behind her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Of course, he's fine," Dr. Clarkson responded with a little smile directed at Tom. Tom understood. _These young mothers, they worry over everything._

Even though he could understand the doctor's feelings, Tom still turned all his attention towards Mary. The doctor had been told about the near-accident, of course, but he didn't understand just how much this day's events had affected Mary. Maybe nobody did, except him.

George was all Mary had left of Matthew – just as Sybbie was all he had left of Sybil. It was something no one could understand if they hadn't gone through it.

George was soon moved to a private room, and Mary and Tom were seated at his bedside. Mary allowed herself to just cry. She rarely did that, but alone, in the room with just Tom and George, she needed to. Tom held her in his arms and rubbed her back as she wept. She had gone through hell that day, and just needed to let it out. Tom held her protectively.


	10. The Night

Mary awoke with her head on Tom's shoulder and his arms about her. She hadn't realized how much she had been shaking, and Tom had held her – even unconsciously – throughout the night. She shifted and looked at George – who was fast asleep, and even having that cute baby snore she loved so much. He was fine. The stitches on his legs looked much less drastic than they had hours ago. He'd have scars from this, there was no denying it… but all things considered that was a small price to pay. And from the looks of her little son she knew he would be strong again in no time.

She turned back to Tom, who's arms were still around her even though he was fast asleep. He had been there for her and for George all night. He had fallen asleep in that chair, unwilling to leave her.

She nestled back down and fell back asleep.

She had a strange dream: someone was kissing her. Intensely. She was still asleep, but he was kissing her. She hadn't opened her eyes, but she knew it was Tom. He was kissing her deeply, and intensely, and she automatically responded, kissing him back. They were more than kissing, they were completely lost in each other… as if under some sort of hypnotic spell. They kissed and embraced for a long time. Finally, as if coming out of a trance, they both collapsed in each other's arms.

There wasn't anything more to the dream… just a passionate spell that made no logical sense… but it nonetheless bothered Mary when she awoke the next morning and found she and Tom had fallen asleep holding hands.

Part of her wanted to analyze what it meant, but the other part of her insisted on moving ahead, and not letting a silly dream distract her. After all, her son had been very nearly killed and this man had saved him, there probably wasn't any further explanation needed for that crazy dream. She was nearly out of her mind with worry, and he had been there. That's all there was to it.

She was **_not_** falling in love with Tom. She couldn't possibly.

And yet…

And yet it was nice to have his hand in hers. To have him sleeping beside her. She had felt safe and protected as he lay sleeping beside her. She knew he'd never let anything hurt her or George. Not ever.

And yet…

This was Tom! Sybil's husband! Sybil was the one who should be sleeping next to him, not her!

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she moved away from Tom so quickly that it woke him up. He rubbed his eyes slowly as he adjusted to the light coming through the windows. She instantly felt bad. After all, it wasn't his fault she had experienced such a strange dream. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry I woke you," she apologized.

"Oh, that's alright," Tom said, stretching. "I – um – what time is it?"

"I have no idea," Mary said slowly standing up. She looked at George who was still sound asleep.

"You never changed your clothes," he said, noticing the blood stains on her blouse.

"Oh – good Lord, how did I let that happen?" she was appalled at herself.

"You were a mother, Mary," Tom said with a smile of approval. "You weren't thinking about your clothes."

Mary couldn't help but return the smile. "That said, I'm going to find the loo and change right now. I can't imagine what I look like!"

"You look beautiful," Tom said, more to himself than her, as she had already left the room.


	11. Morning

Very soon after Mary had changed and they had all awoken, the nurse came to came to tell them that George was discharged. Mary breathed a huge sigh of relief, and Tom quietly appreciated it from his chair.

"So we can all go home?" she asked.

"Of course," the nurse said. "Master George was never in any real danger. Dr. Clarkson just wanted to keep him here overnight so he wouldn't risk opening the stitches. As long as you can keep him off his feet, he'll be fine in a few days," she smiled.

"Define a few days," Tom said, eyeing Mary. "He's a rather rambunctious toddler."

"Dr. Clarkson said that he should stay off his feet for the next 2 to 3 days," the nurse responded. Mary and Tom looked at each other. This would not be easy. "As long as he does that, and the stitches don't open up, he should be right as rain."

The nurse left and Mary let herself just fall for a moment. The events of the past 24 hours and the strain of uncertainty finally coming to an end… she just let herself fall, almost to the point of a faint. Tom saw it coming and caught her in his arms. She was instantly embarrassed.

"I'm – I'm so sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know what came over me."

"Don't apologize, Mary," he said. "Not to me." He helped her to her feet again.

"George?" she called as her little boy rubbed his eyes.

"Mummy!" he answered from his bed. She went to his side and smiled as he looked at her. "My legs hurt," he complained.

"I know, my darling," she said. "But you've been such a brave boy. I'm so proud of you." She turned as she realized Tom was standing beside her. "Both Mummy and Uncle Tom are both so proud of you."

"Yes we are," Tom lightly nudged George's chin. George grinned.

"Uncle Tom, can we go home now?" he asked.

"Of course," he smiled. Mary looked at him with gratitude. For a moment – just a moment – Tom allowed himself to engage in a little fantasy. That Mary was his wife, and George was their son. That Mary was looking to him for strength because they were in love.

No, he shook his head. He wouldn't allow himself to indulge in that fantasy for more than a few seconds. Reality was more important, and he had a role to play. He had to look after Mary as a brother-in-law, not a lover. He had to look after George as an uncle, not a father.

Matthew was his father. He had to remember that.

 _Oh, Matthew_ , he thought even as he and Mary helped George into his new clothes _. What would you think if you knew I had these feelings for your wife? And your son?_

After they got George dressed Mary sat down and held her little boy in her arms and smiled at him. Tom smiled back, but was still feeling conflicted. _Matthew, I think I'm falling in love with your family_.

"What are you looking so solemn about?" Mary asked, bouncing George on her knee. "We're free to go home!" Tom smiled. "Are you going to drive us, or not?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"I can't wait," he answered.

* * *

As they drove back to the house, Mary seemed a little embarrassed, as though something had happened which she regretted. Tom dismissed it as some sort of post-traumatic paranoia and was just happy to deliver a healthy George back to Downton.

Cora, Robert, and Edith were all there to meet the party as they arrived.

"Welcome home," Cora said, as she lifted George into her arms.

"Careful, Mamma," Mary said, as she stepped out of the car. "He's got several stitches up and down his legs."

"We don't mind that at all, do we?" Cora said to George, obviously ignoring Mary's warning. Mary looked at Tom in frustration.

"It's alright," he whispered to her, even as Cora took George off into the house. Mary didn't look convinced. "Come with me," he said, offering her his arm. She thought for a moment, and then accepted it, as they entered the house together.

Edith watched them all enter the house, her curiosity piqued.

"Edith?" her father offered his arm. She accepted, but watched the group before her in great interest.


	12. Observations

Edith watched Tom and Mary with keen interest in the days that followed. From what she gathered, something strange had happened during George's time in hospital, but neither of them wanted to address it. She thought about bringing it up with them, and then decided against it. Instead, she chose her own confidant, Bertie.

"Do you not wonder about Tom and Mary?" she asked, as they walked across the park together.

"Wonder about them?" he answered in his usual jovial spirit. "You choose cryptic words, Edith."

She smiled. "Forgive me," she blushed. "It's just… I've had this feeling ever since they returned with George from hospital that I cannot quite shake. I don't know what to call it, I honestly can't quite put my finger on it," she sighed in frustration and turned back towards the house.

"Oh, you mean you really don't know?" Bertie stopped walking and looked at her in surprise.

Edith turned in confusion. "Know what?"

Bertie smiled. "You can't tell?"

"Tell what?" Edith was starting to get frustrated.

Bertie took a step towards her and took her hand. "You mean to tell me that you can't tell when two people are in love?" he asked.

Edith's eyes widened. She took a step back. "That – that can't possibly be it. Bertie, you MUST be mistaken… they – they – they…" she trailed off.

"Oh, come off it, Edith," he lightly chastised her. "Stop pretending to be shocked. You yourself sensed it – you're the one that brought it up!"

"Yes, but, I still didn't imagine…" she looked back towards the house with sad eyes.

"Ah," Bertie sighed in understanding. "You disapprove."

Edith looked at him in surprise. "I – I wouldn't say that, exactly," she shook her head. "You really think they're in love?"

"Oh Edith, it's so easy to see. I've only been here a few days but even I couldn't miss it. The way his eyes follow her wherever she goes… the way her voice softens whenever she mentions his name… the way he FLEW to save her son- "

"He did that to save George!" Edith interjected.

"He did that to save Mary's son," he observed. "He's madly in love with her. Can you really not see it?"

Edith thought for a minute. "Yes, I've seen it too. I just wasn't quite sure what to make of it," she confided.

"Well, that's not up to us," Bertie said, offering her his arm. Edith took it happily.

"Should we say anything?" she asked.

"Say what to whom?" he answered.

Edith smiled. "I have no idea," she admitted. "I'm just not used to having information about Mary that I don't exploit."

"Edith, we're going to mind our own business and let this play out as it plays out," Bertie advised. Edith didn't like being told what to do… but she couldn't argue with that logic.

"Alright," she sighed. "I promise I'll behave myself." Bertie smiled. She couldn't resist adding "for now."


	13. Mister Talbot

Since their return from hospital, both Mary and Tom had done their best to not be alone together. Neither of them wished to have an awkward conversation so they both avoided it as best they could. It was nearly a week before the two of them were caught alone together.

They were together in the drawing room with the children. Robert, Cora, Edith, and Bertie excused themselves to dress for dinner just as Nanny came to collect the children.

"Mr. Talbot is here," Carson announced. Mary and Tom looked at each other.

Mary was very surprised to hear that name. "Show him in," she answered automatically.

Tom looked at her in confusion. "Would you like me to leave?" he asked.

"Why should you?" she answered evenly. Tom put his hands behind his back and waited.

Henry came in with a strange look in his eyes. "Hello, Henry," she said warmly.

"Lady Mary," he said coldly. Mary looked at him in confusion. "I am surprised that you're receiving me with Mr. Branson – but then, maybe I shouldn't be surprised."

"Whatever does that mean?" Tom asked.

"You tell me!" Henry Talbot insisted.

Tom turned towards Mary. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?" he asked.

"No," she answered, turning back towards Henry. "I have no clue."

"Oh please, Mary," Henry growled, "at least grant me the courtesy of speaking to me in private. After what went on, I think I am owed that much at least!"

"I think I better go," Tom started to leave but Mary caught his arm.

"Wait," she said to Tom. "I honestly don't know what Mr. Talbot is talking about, but I think I would appreciate a witness."

Tom looked very uncomfortable.

"Either he goes, or I do," Henry insisted.

Mary and Tom exchanged stunned glances. "Fine then," Mary called Henry's bluff. "Go."

That threw Henry off-balance. He stared at her in amazement. "What did you just say?"

"You said that either Tom goes or you go. I told you to go." Both Tom and Henry stared at her. "Enough of this nonsense," she turned around and left the room without excusing herself. Tom stared after her silently, but Henry followed her.

"Mary Crawley, you owe me an explanation at the very least!"

"An explanation?" she repeated. "For what? For not wishing to associate myself with a man who nearly ran my son over?" she turned on her heel.

"No – you owe me an explanation for what I saw at the hospital that night!"

Mary stared at him in confusion. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said. Tom silently followed them into the hallway and watched in concern.

"I came to the hospital," Henry revealed. "I felt pretty guilty for what happened. I wanted to check on the boy and make sure you were alright. And what did I find? You and your _brother-in-law_ " he spat the term, glaring at Tom, "practically licking each other's teeth!"

"That's a damned lie!" Tom insisted.

Mary stared at him silently.

"I saw what I saw," Henry stated firmly. The two of you were kissing. Pretty intensely. I was so livid I just left the hospital. It took me this long to come here and demand an explanation. And now you're just going to deny that it happened?"

"Yes we're going to deny it! That bloody well never happened, and you should be ashamed of yourself for driving all the way up here just to hurl accusations at the two of us after what you nearly did!" Tom answered.

Mary didn't speak. She was too amazed.

Henry looked at her. "Are you going to deny it too?" he asked.

"It was an awful day," she said, shaking her head. "We were all out of our minds with worry. I don't know what you think you saw, but I tell you honestly that I just want you to leave, Henry. After all that's happened, I just have no wish to associate myself with you any further." She finished her speech with a little sympathy in her voice, but still turned around and walked into the library without another word.

Henry watched her go, and then without so much as even looking at Tom, he left the house. Tom stared after both of them in wonder. After a moment's pause he followed Mary back into the library. Neither of them could meet each other's eyes.

"That was damned awkward," Tom said, getting himself a drink.

It was pretty early for hard liquor, but Mary ignored the indiscretion. "I don't know where he got it from," she insisted, rubbing her hands up and down her shoulders nervously.

"Don't you?" he answered, throwing back the whiskey.

"Tom…." she began, but had no idea how to finish the thought.

"Mary," he smiled at her – you and I were both there. We both know it happened. And apparently we had a witness," he nodded towards the door.

"I had thought it was a dream," she said honestly.

"That was no dream," he answered, coming towards her. "We were both there, and it happened." He sat down next to her.

"Tom," she placed a hand on his shoulder, "I do remember it. But I was half-asleep!"

"Well, half of you may have been asleep, but the half I was with was wide awake," he said with a wicked grin.

"Don't be vulgar," she stood up.

"You're angry," he surmised.

"Of course I'm angry!" she spun around. "I'm angry and I'm confused and I'm upset and I just don't know why this keeps happening!"

"Mary," Tom half-smiled, "try to calm down."

"I'm going to dress for dinner," she said, leaving the room. Tom watched her go with a mixture of frustration and amusement.


	14. Dinner Preperations

Tom stayed alone in the library for a few minutes, and allowed himself to partake of another drink before he went upstairs to dress himself.

Mary was upset – but for once, he realized, it wasn't him that she was upset with – she was upset with herself. She was embarrassed at having been caught kissing him. He allowed himself a moment to grin privately over that. If all truths were told, he hadn't been completely awake that night either… it was something that had just happened between them while they were both exhausted and needing comfort…

Why then, couldn't he stop smiling?

If Mary was really mad at him she would have tried to patch things up with Henry and explain. What had happened wasn't so beyond forgiveness that it couldn't be explained away… and yet, she hadn't even tried. On the contrary, she had asked Henry to leave. Why did she do that?

"She loves me," he said out loud without meaning to. He suddenly looked around the room anxiously to see if anyone had overheard, but then laughed at himself for that reaction. _Dear Lord, I've become a Crawley_ , he thought to himself with a grin as he went upstairs to change for dinner.

* * *

"Milady, will Mr. Talbot be joining you for dinner?" Anna asked as she helped Mary into her dress.

"Oh, no!" Mary almost groaned. "He most certainly will not."

"But he did just arrive?" Anna pressed. "Beg pardon milady, but Mrs. Patmore was concerned…"

"Tell her there is no need to worry. Mr. Talbot did come, and he has already left." She fixed her gloves. "I think we have seen the last of Henry Talbot."

"Oh." Anna was surprised to hear that. "You'll forgive me, milady, but are you alright then?" Anna looked at her with genuine concern.

Mary thought for a moment. "Oh Anna, I suppose I should be upset, and yet, I'm not. Not at all!"

Anna smiled with approval. "I never thought he was right for you, milady," she confided.

"I agree with you," Mary grinned. Anna nearly laughed out loud. She stifled it a bit with her hand. Mary looked at her in surprise. "What is it?"

"Apologies, milady, but for someone that's just ended things with a suitor, you seem so happy!"

Mary allowed herself to smile. "I am!" she confided to her maid. "And I know it makes no logical sense, but I am very, very happy right now!"

"Could it be that there's someone else your ladyship is thinking of?" Anna teased, not really expecting an answer.

Mary still couldn't stop smiling. "You never know," she answered. She soon left the room and Anna watched her go with pure admiration.

What was it that made Lady Mary so happy? she wondered to herself. She had seen Lady Mary dismiss many a suitor before, but usually she had a bit of guilt, a bit of sadness, a bit of regret mixed in. Anna observed none of this tonight. What was so different? What in the world made her so happy?

Surely it couldn't be… no, she wouldn't allow her mind to dwell on that idea. After all, the man had once been below stairs with all of them! Lady Sybil might have been able to put that aside, but Lady Mary? That seemed very unlikely. Without allowing herself to entertain the thought that she was nonetheless thinking, she folded up Lady Mary's afternoon dress and headed downstairs.

In the kitchens she found Daisy scrambling about like mad and Mrs. Patmore about to have a nervous breakdown. "Will someone PLEASE tell me how many for dinner?" she cried. "Nobody seems to know! Nobody is giving me a straight answer and they expect their soup in ten minutes!"

"No need to fret, Mrs. Patmore," Anna comforted, "Mr. Talbot has already left the house and there will just be the usual for dinner."

"Oh saints preserve us and hallelujah," the cook answered. "I dare say I could have made it work, but I'm glad to know I don't have to."

Anna smiled and left the kitchen. Her husband caught her arm in the hallway. "Mr. Talbot has left?" he pressed her affectionately.

"Since when are you for one for gossip, Mr. Bates?" she teased him.

"I'm not – but you have a knowing smile on your face. Something's made you happy. And whenever you're happy, I like to share in it."

She kissed him. "I honestly don't know anything," she confided. "Except that Mr. Talbot is gone and Lady Mary is happy."

"And when Lady Mary is happy, you are happy," he observed.

"Generally speaking," she thought to herself for a moment. "Yes, I'd say that's true a large percent of the time."

"Then may Lady Mary be happy the rest of her days," he answered, and kissed his wife on the cheek.


	15. After Dinner

Throughout dinner Mary and Tom's eyes kept meeting across the table but they couldn't speak. Everyone seemed oblivious of their glances, except for Edith and Bertie, who shared a few private smiles of amusement at the dilemma.

The general conversation centered around Yewtree Farm and the plans that Mason would bring to it. Mary paid only minimal attention to it, Tom was not much better. For the most part, Robert spent most of the dinner talking to himself, but he did not appear to notice.

After dinner they all gathered in the drawing room for sherry, Tom and Mary still kept looking at each other but did not speak. Mary was no longer mad, Tom was relieved to see. He could always read her expressions clearly, and right now her face utterly betrayed annoyance. Robert was talking his ear off about something or other, and Tom privately watched in amusement as Mary pretended to be interested in a book.

Finally, one by one, everyone started to go up to bed. Tom and Mary stayed behind. Robert was the last to go up, and after he finally said goodnight Tom sighed and sat down next to Mary. Alone at last.

"I didn't think Papa was ever going to leave," she confided.

"How long have you been pretending to read that book?" he asked with a smile.

"Since Christmas," she said as she put it down.

"I'll admit it was funny watching you wait and wait for your father to stop talking."

"He was on a roll, that's for certain. In any case," she said, turning towards him, "I had a feeling that you wanted to speak to me privately."

"I did," Tom confessed. He stood up and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"You'll pardon my observation, but I've never known you to drink so heavily."

"Irish courage," he said with a grin. "I'm about to tell you something, and I need every ounce of strength to get it out."

"I'm intrigued," she said. "But since when are you afraid of anything?"

"I am afraid of this," he said, sipping his whiskey. "It's been on my mind for a very long time."

"Tom, what are you trying to say?"

Tom finished his glass and met her eyes. "What happened between us at the hospital – there's a reason it happened."

"Tom," she tried to stop him but he waived his hand. "No, honestly – whatever happened between us at the time, we were both half-asleep, crazy with worry, we were out of our heads. Please don't make more of it than that."

Tom took another swig of his drink. "No," he said, more to himself than to her. "I won't let you talk me out of it anymore. I won't let you change the subject again. I'm going to say it."

"Tom…." She looked at him pleadingly.

"I'm in love with you, Mary Josephine Crawley."

Mary couldn't speak. She just stared at him wordlessly.

"I've been in love with you for a very long time."

Mary breathed and blinked her eyes. "Tom," she sighed, "I know what's happened between us has been confusing, but I don't think you should rush to any declarations that cannot be taken back."

"You think I'm about to take them back, Mary?" he asked his eyes wide. "Do you know what it's taken for me to be able to say this to you?"

"It's late," she shook her head. "We've both been drinking, perhaps we should not talk about it anymore," she stood up.

Tom crossed the room in just three steps and seized her. "No," he insisted. "I'm not letting you run away again so easily. We've both been avoiding this conversation for too long. And I just can't let it go on unsaid any longer."

"Tom," Mary looked at him pleadingly, "please don't… just don't."

"I have to," he insisted. He got down on one knee. Mary's hand went to her mouth in amazement. "Lady Mary, will you be my wife?"

Mary couldn't speak for a minute.

"Mary?" he finally asked.

"No," she answered.


	16. Rejection

"No?" Tom repeated the word, not sure he'd heard correctly.

"No," Mary confirmed. Tom was still on one knee. "Please get up," she said.

Tom obliged, but still stared at her in amazement. "You won't marry me?" he said – trying to convince himself that he'd heard correctly.

"No, I won't marry you," Mary answered. She turned away.

Tom stared after her in complete amazement. "I don't understand," he said, still dumbstruck.

She spun around. "Tom, I asked you not to do this. I begged you not to do this. And now that you've done it I - I have to say no," she rubbed her arms up and down trying to comfort herself.

"I know what the situation is," he began, guessing what her objection was. "We're in-laws. The appearance may be awkward, but – "

"It's not that!" she said a little too quickly. Tom looked at her. "It's so many things! Our children, our families, our temperaments, not to mention our religions…"

Tom was almost beyond words. "You're really turning me down?" he asked – not quite able to comprehend it.

"I have to," she answered. "I'm sorry, truly I am. But, I think I must."

Tom shuddered. She really was refusing him. He tried to make sense of it in his mind. He was so madly in love with Mary it seemed impossible for her not to feel the same. Was this really happening?

He took a moment to consider. Was he totally mistaken in everything that had happened? He had come back from Boston just for her. He had kissed her without any invitation on her part. If he was completely honest, he had pretty shamelessly pursued her. Had he just been fooling himself?

There stood Mary, tall and elegant as ever. He knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that he loved her – but perhaps she was right. Had he just been seeing what he wanted to see? Had he been deluding himself this entire time?

No, he thought to himself. That seemed very unlikely.

"I don't accept that," he said aloud, without meaning to.

Mary fixed him with an ice-cold stare. "Well, don't you have a high opinion of yourself?" she responded. "You can't accept rejection."

"I can accept rejection well enough, when it's honestly made," he mustered his last bit of courage to finish his thought. "But you, Lady Mary Crawley, are just afraid of accepting me."

"Don't be absurd," she shook her head.

"It's true," he met her eyes. "You're scared to death of what you feel for me. You're scared of falling in love with me. You're scared of marrying me." He hadn't planned the words, but as soon as he said them he knew he was right.

"And why would that be, prey?"

"I think it's because you're afraid of being hurt again," he answered, reading her like a book.

Mary blinked, but refused to let him see how accurately he'd hit her. "Well that's clearly not true," she responded evenly. "I've cared for many of my suitors. I even went to bed with one of them," she said with a malicious tone.

"Oh please, Mary, your sketching trip with Lord Gillingham is very old water under the bridge. You are not about to dissuade me by that story. I know you – I think I know you better than anyone else in this house," he glanced upstairs.

Despite herself, Mary nodded in agreement. "That's probably true," she conceded.

"I know you better than any of your suitors," he pressed.

"That's probably also true," she admitted.

"Then WHY won't you marry me?" he implored, coming close enough to kiss her.

Mary leaned towards him. Their lips inched towards each other.

"I can't!" she declared, pulling away at the last second. "I'm sorry, Tom. Truly, I am, but I just can't."

Tom thought for a moment and then just sighed. "But you love me," he finally said.

"Oh Tom, of course I love you. But - but I just can't. Not in that way."

"I don't believe you," he said, his confidence returning.

"Tom," she wiped tears away from her eyes that she wished Tom wouldn't notice, "what do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," he said quietly and decidedly. "You don't need to say anything. I'll wait."

"You'll what?"

"I'll wait. If there's one thing I know it's how to be patient when it comes to the Crawley girls," he said with half a smile.

Mary's face tinged red. "Don't you DARE compare me with Sybil. Don't you dare!"

"Mary, that's not what I meant – "

"I will never marry you, Thomas Allen Branson, so you may as well go back to Boston and stay there!" she turned back around and left.

Tom stared after her for a moment, completely dumbfounded, then finally decided to run after her.

"No!" he declared, following her halfway up the staircase.

"No?" she turned around and met his eyes.

"I won't let it end like this. If you need more time to think of it, then that's fine. But I refuse to believe that it's all over tonight."

Mary looked like she wanted to yell at him, and yet couldn't decide quite how to start.

Tom half-smiled in that way that Mary found infuriating. "I'll accept that as an I-need-to-think-about-it." He kissed her hand. "Good night, Mary." With that he bowed and went up the rest of the stairs to his own room. Mary stared after him, wondering at his positive demeanor.


	17. The Parents

After watching Tom disappear into his room Mary continued up the staircase and looked down the hallway for a moment. Instead of going towards her own room, she knocked on her parents' bedroom door. "Come in," her mother answered. She entered and found her mother in bed, reading a magazine, and her father was sitting in a chair, looking over the evening paper.

"Mama, Papa," she acknowledged, entering the room.

"Is everything alright?" her mother looked concerned.

"Yes – no – I don't know. There's just something I wish to discuss with the two of you," she sat on the edge of the bed. "Something happened and I just do not know what to think."

"You sound so serious, Mary," her mother said, putting down her magazine. "I hope it's not bad news."

"No, not bad. Surprising, though. You see, I just received a proposal."

"Really?" her mother smiled.

"That Mr. Talbot certainly moves quickly, I'll give him that," Robert observed, standing up. "Why on earth didn't he stay for dinner then?" He picked up a cigar and lit a match.

"It wasn't Henry Talbot," Mary said, calmly. "It was Tom."

"WHAT?" her mother's jaw dropped.

"The devil it was!" her father said, almost dropping his lit match on the floor.

"Tom? Mary, Tom? Sybil's Tom?" her mother asked.

"He's not Sybil's Tom anymore," she answered patiently.

"He has asked you to marry him?" her mother seemed both delighted and amazed.

"Yes," Mary said, quietly pleased at the reaction.

"Tom – Branson? As in your brother-in-law?" Robert asked.

"Yes, Papa."

"This – this couldn't have come out of nowhere. You must have had some clue as to his intentions?" her mother pressed.

"I don't know," Mary shook her head. "I suppose I must have known – but it was still very surprising."

"It's stunning," her father said, sitting down and taking a large sip of brandy.

"How did you answer?" Cora asked.

"I said no," Mary breathed. "But he didn't accept it."

"He didn't accept it?" her mother repeated in amazement. Mary was surprised to see how tickled she was at this news.

"No," Mary answered. "He insisted that I needed more time to consider," she looked at the bedspread and traced the pattern with her fingers. "He said he'd be patient." Neither of her parents spoke, as Mary was clearly still thinking to herself. She continued to look at the bedspread. "Of course there's George and Sybbie to think about…"

"Two daughters married to the chauffer, my God," Robert said aloud.

"Robert!" Cora fixed him with a hard stare.

"I haven't accepted him," Mary insisted. Her frosty exterior rising. Her mother noticed it with concern.

"Mary, you mustn't let your father's rather rude comment shake you. I remember very well when we sat in this very room together after Matthew first proposed. You weren't sure whether to accept him. Do you remember what I asked you?"

"You asked me if I loved him," Mary answered with a distant smile.

"Do you love Tom?"

Mary didn't answer.

"He could have jolly well asked my opinion on the thing," Robert huffed.

"Do you blame him? Especially when you just referred to him as the chauffer?" Cora countered.

Robert grumbled and took a puff on his cigar.

"I don't want things to change," Mary thought aloud. "We're so happy. He and Sybbie, and me and George… why did he do this and upset everything?" Mary asked.

"Because he's in love with you," her mother answered.

Mary looked at Cora in surprise. "He did say that," Mary admitted.

"Well it all makes sense," Cora said. "He wouldn't have asked you if he wasn't."

"Just a moment now, who's side are you on here?" Robert asked Cora.

"I'm on Mary's side," Cora answered calmly. "And whoever it is that will make her happy."

"But what about Henry Talbot?" Robert asked, dropping his cigar in the ashtray. "He's a nice enough chap, and for one thing, he wasn't married to your sister."

"Robert!" Cora looked at him with real annoyance.

"Well," Mary took a deep breath, "to answer your question, Papa, there are two things wrong with Henry Talbot. One, he hasn't asked me, and two, I doubt he ever will."

"You sent him away?" Cora asked.

"I did, yes."

"Why on earth would you do that?" Robert asked. "Surely you know that incident with George was not his fault at all."

"No, it wasn't that. Honestly, I don't even know why I did it," Mary confessed. "He showed up, out of the blue, and started to hurl accusations at me, and I just had no interest in ever seeing him ever again. And I told him so."

"Could you have sent him away because of your feelings for Tom?" Cora asked.

Robert stared at his wife in frustration but Mary just closed her eyes. "I don't think I have an answer for that. At least not tonight." She rose to her feet.

"Mary, what are you going to do?" Cora asked with worry.

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I do not know what to do."

Robert looked as though he had a lot to say, and yet Cora stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "It's probably best to just sleep on it for now," Cora advised.

Mary started nodding before she spoke. "Yes, that's wise. Goodnight Mama. Goodnight Papa." She went to the door.

"Sleep well, Mary," Cora smiled as her daughter left the room.


	18. Breakfast

The next morning Edith and Bertie were the first ones down for breakfast. They were enjoying having the room to themselves, quietly talking until Mary appeared.

"Good morning, everyone," she said calmly.

"Good morning," Bertie stood up.

"We weren't expecting your presence this morning," Edith stated.

"Oh, one does get tired of breakfast in bed every day," she rolled her eyes in a manner that was clearly meant to annoy Edith.

Edith sighed to herself but decided to ignore the subtle barb at her spinsterhood. For his part, Bertie hadn't seemed to notice, which Edith gave silent thanks for.

"Well we're delighted to have you join us," Bertie said as he sat back down. Edith smiled at his chivalry.

"Likewise," Mary said as she took her seat. "Is it just the three of us? Has no one else come down yet?"

"Not as yet," Edith said, buttering a scone and watching her sister carefully.

"Ah," Mary looked towards the door worriedly. Edith noticed her sister's nervousness, and wondered to herself if something had passed the night before that had made her sister so agitated this morning.

"Good morning, everyone!" a loud voice erupted from the doorway. Mary nearly dropped her teacup in surprise, just as her father entered the room. Both Bertie and Edith noticed.

"Morning, Papa," Edith answered.

"Good morning, Lord Grantham," Bertie nodded.

"Edith, Lord Hexham," he nodded. "Mary, this is a surprise," he smiled.

Mary smiled. "I slept very little," Mary tried to explain, "so when I awoke early I decided to come down and join the family for breakfast." She felt silly trying to justify her appearance at the breakfast table, but the honest truth was that she couldn't bear to spend one more minute in that room. She had tossed and turned all night, replaying her conversation with Tom over and over... she just had to be up and out as soon as she could manage.

"Lovely to have you, my dear," her father said as he turned to serve himself breakfast.

Edith turned to Bertie and whispered to him, "She hasn't once joined us for breakfast since she married."

"Shhh," Bertie lightly scolded.

"Good morning everyone," Tom appeared a moment later with a very cheerful demeanor. Everyone returned his greeting with typical smiles and nods, but Edith kept her eyes glued on Mary. Mary seemed torn between wanting to meet Tom's eyes and look away. She was obviously uncomfortable as she picked up the newspaper.

Tom took a seat next to Mary. "Good morning," he said to her.

"Morning," she returned, trying to pretend to study the newspaper.

"Did you sleep well?" he pressed.

"Not very," she said, turning the page. There was an awkward silence before she remembered her manners. "And you?" she asked halfheartedly.

"I slept marvelously," he said with a cheeky grin. "I dreamt all night. I almost didn't want to get up this morning because I had such a lovely rest."

Mary folded the paper. "How marvelous for you."

Tom ignored her coldness and picked up a scone. "What are everyone's plans for the day?" he addressed the table.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm leaving on the 10 o'clock," Bertie said.

"Oh, that is a shame," Tom said. "But you'll be back again soon?"

"I hope so," he smiled at Edith. The look was unmistakable. Mary almost choked on her tea in annoyance.

"What's going on?" Edith asked, as Mary coughed.

"Nothing," Mary insisted. "Nothing to trouble you with. I think I just took a sip too fast."

Tom smiled to himself at the stupid explanation.

"I see," Edith said slowly, clearly not buying it.

"Edith…" Bertie warned her.

Mary stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll head over to the office early."

"Why not wait a few minutes?" Edith asked. "Then Tom can walk with you."

"Edith," her father said her name sharply. Edith turned towards him feeling embarrassed and chastised. Bertie had warned her not to say anything, and here she was, unable to stop herself.

"I really would rather not wait, if you don't mind. Excuse me," Mary nodded and left the room.

Edith watched her go with an expression of amazement and frustration. If what Bertie had said was true then why was Mary so clearly avoiding Tom? And to add to her puzzlement, Tom sat back after she left in comfortable silence, sipping his coffee and listening to Bertie and her father talk about hunting. He looked as though nothing in the world could upset him. What in the world had happened?


	19. Sisters

After Mary left the others finished their breakfast. Robert watched his son-in-law cheerfully make conversation with Edith and Bertie. He had to admit that were it not for Mary's late-night confession, Robert never would have guessed that there was anything bothering Tom. He wondered at his son-in-law, being so jovial after a rejection. Robert had to admit to himself that there was something he respected in the younger man's attitude, although he could not quite understand it.

"Well," Tom said, putting his napkin down, "I think I better start my day as well," he stood up.

"Will you be headed to the office now?" Edith asked. It was an innocent question, she told herself.

"No," he smiled to himself. "Not right away. I think I'm going to spend the morning with Sybbie."

"Sybbie?" Edith repeated in surprise. Everyone looked at her. "How nice," she stuttered out.

"Won't you be needed at the office?" Robert asked.

"Oh, I think Mary can handle things pretty well on her own for a few hours," he smiled out the window in her direction. "I'm just going to take some time to check in with my little girl."

"Of course," Robert approved.

* * *

Shortly thereafter it was time for Bertie to leave for the station. He and Edith walked hand-in-hand as they said their farewells.

"I'll miss you terribly," Edith said.

"It won't be for long," he smiled. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Will you?" she pressed.

"Of course I will," he smiled. "Try to be supportive to Tom and Mary," he said, glancing in the direction of the office. "I think they could use a friend."

"Mary and I have never been friends," she said somewhat sadly.

"Then maybe now is as good a time to start as any," he said cheerfully. Edith smiled at that and he kissed her hand. "Farewell, for now," he bowed.

"Till next we meet," she said with a smile.

* * *

Edith thought over what Bertie had said after he had left. There was no use trying to find Tom, he had taken Sybbie to town, so the only one she could talk to was Mary. She started towards the office, unsure exactly of what she was going to say once she got there.

She wanted to follow Bertie's advice. He had told her to be a friend to Mary, but also not to interfere. This was going to be a fine line to walk. She still hadn't decided what she was going to do when she found herself at the office door.

"Ah, Edith," Mary looked up from her books. "This is a surprise."

"I came to talk to you. It's rather urgent."

"I rather thought it would be, to bring you all the way out here," Mary observed, standing up. Edith ignored the sarcasm. "What's troubling you this time?"

"I know that Tom is in love with you," Edith stated firmly.

Mary's eyes widened. "What makes you say that?"

There was no stopping her now. She couldn't help herself. "Well, the way he looks at you for starters. Not to mention the way you look at him. And then there's the fact that he kissed you."

"Who told you that? Sybbie? Henry?" Mary's jaw dropped. She realized a moment too late that she had just given herself away.

Edith looked at her older sister in triumph. "Actually no one did; I was just guessing. Thank you for confirming it, though."

Mary closed her eyes. She had fallen right into her sister's trap. She was torn between anger and embarrassment. "That's not what I meant – I think you misunderstood…" she began stupidly.

"Come off it, Mary. I'm not blind. For heaven's sake, even Bertie could tell there was something going on between you two."

"It's none of your business," Mary insisted. Edith looked undeterred. "Besides, there's no more to it."

"No more to it?" Edith repeated with a straight face. "Really? That's the story that you're going with?"

"Oh Lord, Edith, what do you want me to say?" Mary stormed across the room in a huff.

"How about you admit that you're in love with him as well?" she suggested.

Mary turned on her, her eyes shooting daggers. Edith instantly knew she had overplayed her hand. "Oh, now you presume to know my feelings? You expect me to trust you with them? You've never trusted me. In fact, you've done your best to destroy me in the past."

"Oh, Mary, let's not get tangled up in the past. I'm trying to be your sister."

"You want me to confide in you, and yet you still haven't confided in me," she answered readily.

"What are you talking about?"

"Marigold."

Edith recoiled as if she'd been punched in the stomach. Mary smiled triumphantly. Edith slowly sank into a chair.

"How long have you known?" Edith finally asked.

"It took me a little while to piece it all together, I'll admit. But how dare you ask me to share my secrets with you when you've kept her a secret from me? How big of a hypocrite are you?"

"Don't tell Bertie, please," Edith begged, tears coming into her eyes.

"Don't interfere in my life, and I won't interfere in yours," Mary answered.


	20. Tom's Morning

That morning Tom had woken from a surprisingly restful sleep. He washed his face and dressed automatically. He wanted to think over the events of the previous night, but for some reason he couldn't allow himself to dwell upon it. He had jumped the gun in proposing to Mary, he knew that, but had he been completely wrong about her feelings? That seemed very unlikely. Her sending away Henry Talbot had been a pretty clear sign.

He walked towards the dining room still undecided over the events of the previous night. What was said last night could never be unsaid. Yet he didn't regret it. Still making up his mind about the entire situation he was stunned to find Mary sitting at the breakfast table, looking much more agitated and uncomfortable than he ever was.

Mary looked as though she hadn't slept in ten years. She was anxious, fidgety, and his guess was that she had only come downstairs for breakfast to simply have something to do. For a brief moment he felt sorry for her. In a way, he had it easier than she did. He had admitted his feelings. She wasn't ready to do that yet. He had told her last night that he could be patient, so patient he would be.

He walked into the room determined to be as cheerful as possible. He greeted everyone at the table and even inquired about Mary's sleep. She had never looked more uncomfortable in her life. Although she didn't know it, Tom actually found her actions encouraging.

He widened his smile and started to talk to everyone about their plans for the day. Bertie looked oblivious, Edith curious, Robert thoughtful…

And Mary… well, Mary looked truly upset. Despite her trying to hide it by snapping at Edith and acting disinterested towards him, she was facing some grave inner-turmoil. Almost as soon as he had sat down she had made some excuse to leave the room. He hadn't been mistaken: she clearly loved him. She was every bit as much in love as he was. She just really, REALLY didn't want to be.

He knew it was wrong of him, but he couldn't help but smile a little at her predicament.

Rather than follow Mary to the office, he decided to give her some space to sort things out, and instead went to the nursery and see his daughter. After all, they had important things to discuss. He was pleased to find Sybbie already up. Nanny was dressing George and Marigold was still asleep.

"Da!" Sybbie exclaimed happily when she saw him. His face lit up. He knew that the Crawleys would prefer a less Irish term, but he never discouraged his daughter from using that form of endearment.

"Hello, my love," he scooped her into his arms and kissed her.

"The children have not yet had their breakfast," Nanny informed him, clearly irritated that he had upset her momentum.

"I'm sorry, Nanny," Tom said, "but I would like to spend the morning with Miss Sybbie, starting right now. Is that alright with you, Miss Sybbie?" he asked his daughter.

She grinned and gave him a kiss in response. Tom squeezed his daughter before acknowledging Nanny. "I'm afraid you'll just have to forgive us," he said, whisking his daughter away.

He carried her down the gallery and she was clearly surprised and excited. "Where are we going, Da?"

"I thought we might take a trip into Rippen today for breakfast, would you like that?"

"Oh yes!" she giggled in excitement and held her hand to her mouth in a way that always reminded Tom of Sybil.

"Good." He carried her down the stairs and ordered the car. He drove himself and Sybbie into the village and stopped at one of the finest restaurants. She looked very excited. He knew he was spoiling her, but he couldn't help himself this morning. "So, Miss Sybbie, what would you like for breakfast more than anything in the world?" he said, carrying his daughter into the restaurant.

"I want…" she thought for a moment, "strawberries and cream!"

"Strawberries and cream it shall be!" he announced.

It didn't take long for her meal to arrive, and he watched in amusement as his beautiful little girl gobbled up the fruit happily. "Sybbie, there is something serious that I do want to discuss with you," he began cautiously.

She paid him very little attention as she drowned her berries in more cream.

"Darling, please listen to me for a moment."

"Yes, Da?" she looked up at him with fleeting interest.

"I want to talk to you about having a mother," he said it very quietly and very seriously so as to hold her attention. It didn't work.

"Mummy's in heaven," she answered automatically, spooning more fruit into her mouth.

Tom took a breath. "Yes, darling, she is. I meant, how would you feel about having a new mother? Not a replacement, never that, but someone else to help look after you?"

"Why?" she kept spooning the cream into her mouth.

Tom smiled a little to himself. "Sybbie, if I found someone who would love you as much as I do, wouldn't you want her to be your Mummy?"

"I s'pose," she said, only slightly interested.

"Darling," he tried again, "If I found a new Mummy for you… perhaps even a little brother…" Tom looked at her seriously, and yet the little girl seemed only slightly interested. He started to feel disheartened, when she suddenly spoke again.

"You mean after you marry Aunt Mary," she said matter-of-factly without even looking up.


	21. Reflections

For a moment Tom stared at his daughter in complete amazement. Whatever he had thought or hoped she would say, he never expected her to say that.

"Sybbie," he slowly took a sip of his tea, "what makes you think your Aunt Mary and I will get married?" he tried to keep his voice even, and also not too loud in case any of the other patrons at the restaurant might hear.

"You kissed," she stated firmly, returning back to her berries.

"You saw that?" he said a little too loudly. He remembered, perhaps too late now, that Sybbie had been there with them that first time that he had kissed Mary at the picnic. He had thought she hadn't noticed, but apparently his daughter was far more observant than he'd given her credit for.

And of course, to Sybbie, a kiss meant marriage. It was the age she was still at.

Sybbie didn't seem at all fazed by his question. She shrugged it off. Tom watched his daughter in complete wonder. This was his little girl, but for the moment, all he could see was Sybil in her. He could almost hear his late wife's laugh as their daughter completely called him out on his intentions. Tom couldn't even think of anything else to say; he was touched and amused and stunned all at the same time.

Meanwhile, he noted, Sybbie was still much more occupied with her fruit and other things. She started to talk about the new furniture in the nursery and Marigold's tendency to take her dolls without asking. Tom watched her talk in amazement. Apparently his marrying her Aunt Mary was a given – she didn't seem to think there was anything to discuss. And he loved her so much for that.

* * *

For her part, Mary was having a far less agreeable morning. After she'd chased Edith away she was left by herself in the office alone with her thoughts. She didn't like to dwell on things, and yet of course her mind kept going back to Tom.

Tom had asked her to marry him. TOM! Her co-agent, her late husband's friend, her brother-in-law, and as her father had put it last night: the ex-chauffer.

And she had said no. She had to say no, she told herself. She didn't want to marry him. How could she? But he hadn't accepted it. He had said he'd wait for her to change her mind – urgh, the complete arrogance in that infuriated her!

But what in the world had possessed her to tell her parents about it? She was having far too many thoughts far too quickly. She wanted a cup of tea, and then started to feel sorry for herself that she was at the office, not the house, and for once there weren't a dozen maids and footmen buzzing around behind the scenes. If she wanted a cup of tea, she'd have to make it herself.

She looked at the small stove in the next room and briefly considered it. No, she decided, she wasn't quite that desperate. Instead she walked outside for a moment to clear her head. She needed to think of something else - anything else. The weather was much better, she observed, and the flowers would soon be - oh to hell with it, she went back inside and started pacing back and forth. She couldn't not think about Tom.

If she were completely honest with herself, she had been afraid that Tom was falling in love with her for the past couple of weeks. And she really didn't want that to happen. She had tried to distance herself from him. Yes, she'd give herself that much credit: she had tried.

And then George's accident happened.

Of course she had clung to Tom then, she reasoned, he had saved her child's life. And she was scared and vulnerable and he had been the one holding her hand. She wasn't sure she should be held accountable for her actions at that time.

Well, that's what she told herself at least.

Then Tom had proposed. She didn't want him to, she had tried to stop him, and he did it anyway.

And to make matters worse, it seemed that practically everyone knew about it! Her mother and father, Edith and Bertie, probably Isabel, Granny and Aunt Rosamund would know by tea time. She suspected that somehow Rose and Atticus would learn of this all the way in New York. And then of course her other grandmother and Uncle Harold and probably all of Rhode Island and Boston. Oh, and add to that fact the servants - God only knows how many of them would put two and two together… she shuddered.

This would never go away, she realized.

She collapsed into her chair and pictured her life several years in the future… Every suitor she would ever have would at some time or other meet Tom, and then, invariably, the story would follow. _This is Tom Branson, Mary's brother-in-law, he once asked her to marry him…._

She again stood up from her chair in a fit of rage. She felt so angry at Tom for putting her in this situation. It's not that she'd never had a proposal before, in fact, she'd had four prior to this: two from Matthew, one each from Lord Gillingham and Sir Richard… why did this one bother her so much?

"Mary?" the man himself appeared at the office door.

 _Because he's always there_ , she answered her own question with an inner groan.


	22. Mid-Afternoon

"Tom," she breathed out his name as soon as she saw him. Mary was clearly exasperated and Tom privately found it a little endearing. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, somewhat desperately.

"This is my office, same as yours," he responded calmly. His even temper seemed to somehow upset Mary more.

"You want to work on the estate?" she said, crossing the room, "Be my guest." She headed towards the door.

"Mary," he caught her arm. "You don't need to leave whenever I enter a room." She didn't answer and didn't meet his eyes. "Please stay," he said.

Reluctantly she turned and went back to her desk.

To Mary's own astonishment they _did_ work on the estate. They went over the new piglets at Yewtree, the new fences leading to the village, and all sorts of everyday occurrences. After five hours of straight work Tom finally stood up and stretched.

"Well, that's a good day's worth, I'd say," he said, with a smile. "I'll see you back at the house for dinner," he threw a smile towards her and then left.

Mary stared after him in amazement. They had put in a full day's work, and he had not pressed her once about his proposal. On the contrary, they were carrying on the same as always. She was beyond perplexed.

* * *

For his part, Tom enjoyed his walk back to the house after a full day's work behind him. He entered the house about an hour before everyone was due to change, and he decided to spend his extra time in the library. Once he entered, he was surprised to find his father-in-law there, nursing a sherry.

"Ah, Tom," Robert welcomed him with a warm smile.

"Lord Grantham," Tom acknowledged, his surprise adamant.

"Please join me," Robert welcomed him. Tom accepted the glass that was offered.

After a few preliminary inquiries about the pigs and the general status of the estate, both men did seem to relax.

"I am very happy to have a moment alone with you," Robert admitted, sitting down across from Tom.

"Actually, I am as well," Tom acknowledged. "There are some things that I think I should discuss with you before too long."

Robert let a moment pass and sipped his drink.

"Would I be very far off the mark if I guessed that Mary had something to do with this conversation?"

Tom nearly smiled, despite his obvious uneasiness. "You're very perceptive," he complimented his father-in-law.

"No, not so perceptive," Robert admitted. "I suppose it's only fair to tell you that she confided in me and her mother certain aspects of your relationship the other night."

Tom didn't speak for a moment; he was clearly taken aback. "I see," he swallowed his sherry thoughtfully.

"My dear chap, I hope you know how greatly you are respected in this family. I do hope that there would be nothing you would be uncomfortable speaking to me about."

"Thank you for that," Tom said with genuine gratitude. "But if you think that I was about to apply to you for her hand, you'd be mistaken."

Lord Grantham turned in surprise. "You are not?"

"No," Tom finished his drink, "I am not."

"Oh." Robert was actually at a loss for words.

"I'm sure apart from everything else that happened, Mary told you that she did not accept me," Tom said, with such a calmness that Robert was impressed.

"She did say that, yes," Robert confirmed. He studied his son-in-law carefully.

"I will not press her," Tom declared. He turned towards Robert. "And the last thing in the world that I'd want is for you and the rest of the family to be thrust into a difficult situation."

All of a sudden Robert had a terrible thought occur. "Please tell me you are not thinking of taking that little girl across the ocean again," Robert blurted out suddenly. "You only just brought her back!"

Despite himself Tom smiled. "To be honest, I haven't made any long-term decisions. There's still so much undecided. But no, I do not intend to take Sybbie back to America."

"Well hallelujah and amen to that!" Robert raised his glass in a toast. The gesture was completely impulsive on Robert's end, but greatly appreciated by Tom, who returned it. Without realizing it, Tom noted that he had somehow (perhaps even unconsciously) gained his father-in-law's approval.


	23. A Month of Awkwardness

True to his word, Tom did not raise the issue by thought, word, or deed over the next four weeks. He continued to run the estate with Mary, and never put a foot out of place, or gave a remark that could possibly be misconstrued. He continued on, in his normal, cheery disposition as if nothing had ever upset him in the world.

It made Mary crazy.

For her part, she could not make heads or tails of Tom's behavior. She remembered – VIVIDLY – Tom going down on one knee and begging her to marry him. She remembered her refusal. And yet… yet, here he was, acting as though none of that had ever happened. Was he in denial? Or was SHE in denial? After weeks of his casual behavior and friendly smiles she started to wonder if she had invented the entire episode. Every day she went to the office and every day she came home more frustrated and confused than the day before.

Everyone in the household watched the tension in Lady Mary build up with amazement. Tom acted as cheerful as ever, but when Lady Mary was upset the whole house seemed to shake at its very foundation. Everyone could tell that she was wound-up, but very few people knew why.

Of course, their actions did not go unnoticed. Anna was starting to get more than a little concerned with her mistress's constant agitation. And for once, Lady Mary was not confiding in her. Anna didn't take it personally, she understood. She wasn't being confided in because there was nothing to tell. Lady Mary didn't understand the situation herself.

One evening, after spending over a month of observing her mistress's frustration, Anna finally started to share her own growing concerns with her husband.

"I wish I knew how to help her," Anna told John as they settled into their cottage for the evening. John picked up his book more out of habit than disinterest.

"Is she really that rattled?" he asked, not wanting to be pulled into Lady Mary drama if he could help it.

"Lady Mary is at odds and ends these days," she answered, taking off her coat.

"What is upsetting Lady Mary now, prey tell?" he asked, clearly only mildly interested and just humoring his wife.

"Mr. Bates," she pushed his book away from him. "You know full well, it's Tom Branson that's upsetting her."

"I thought she rejected him." Anna noted that despite his air of disinterest, he was obviously keeping up. She smiled at that.

"She did. Pretty difinitively. And yet he's still here. Acting as though nothing in the world had ever happened," she thought aloud. "Every day is making her more and more anxious and confused."

John didn't answer right away. He sat back and thought for a moment. "I remember when he was the chauffer," Mr. Bates said, slowly, and with just a hint of nostlgia. Anna watched her husband in curiosity, as he clearly wasn't done. He put down his book and stepped towards the fireplace. "I remember when he was courting Lady Sybil," he continued slowly. He looked at his wife. "Do you remember?"

Anna smiled at the memory. "I think he must have fallen in love with Lady Sybil at first sight," she reminisced.

"I don't think that's quite true, but I like your version," he smiled. Anna almost blushed, but Bates continued. "He first started working here just after I did – and then it took him years before she agreed to marry him…"

"Yes," Anna remembered. "Years of waiting and waiting and waiting…"

"Once he sets his mind towards something, that man has the patience of Job."

Anna's eyes widened. "You think then, that he still intends to win Lady Mary?"

"I think that if he'd really given up he would have left. Packed up Miss Sybbie and gone back to Boston. But he's still here. And if there's anything he loves most in the world, it's making Lady Mary crazy."

Anna looked sharply at her husband. "Is that true?"

"Oh, it's true. Men love to watch the women they love act crazy. I've been enjoying it myself for the past few weeks."

"What?"

"You think I haven't noticed how Lady's Mary confusion has confused you? I've enjoyed every moment of it. You are so adorable when you're muddled, Mrs. Bates."

Anna honestly wasn't sure if she should be angry or flattered. Her husband smiled and kissed her lightly.

"But – then –" she couldn't string a sentence together.

"I think Tom Branson knows exactly what he's doing," he answered his wife with a smile. Anna couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

Upstairs, Robert and Cora had also observed the unfolding drama in wonder. They both knew what had had passed between Tom and Mary, and watched in amazement. Edith spent less and less time at Downton, much preferring London and Bertie's company to the confusion at home.

"Have you ever seen Mary in such a state?" Robert asked, coming into the bedroom that evening. "I don't remember her being this upset since Matthew died."

"I'm not sure that's a fair comparison," Cora responded calmly. "Matthew's death was a horrible tragedy. This is just… I don't know what the word is, but it's not a tragedy."

"I know, but it's a very tense situation," Robert complained, getting into bed. "And it's making everyone damned uncomfortable."

"Mary doesn't know what she should do," Cora said with some sympathy.

"What she should do is marry Tom," Robert answered automatically. Cora looked at her husband in complete wonder.

"There's a sentence I never expected to hear from you," Cora observed.

"Well really, all this tension in the air – Tom acting as if nothing in the world is wrong and Mary working herself into a frenzy… It's getting difficult as anything."

"So even you think Mary should accept Tom?" Cora needed him to repeat it.

"Oh don't pretend you don't," Robert closed his eyes. "You've loved this idea since the first time you heard of it."

"I won't deny that," Cora answered. "I think in a lot of ways they are very well suited. But what brought this change of heart in you?"

"It's not so much a change of heart as much as I just want the nonsense over," he exhaled. "I don't blame Bertie and Edith for hiding out in London all the time."

"Edith feels guilty. She's happy and Mary and Tom are not."

"I know. Rather tactful of them, I'd say." Robert huffed and then thought for a moment. "I just want things settled."

Cora smiled to herself, and relaxed against the pillows, thinking things over. "Well, it seems to me that Tom has done a beautiful job."

Robert turned to his wife in genuine confusion. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"Robert," Cora said patiently as she turned towards her husband, "think carefully over all that has happened since Tom returned from Boston. When he first came back – Mary was still being pursued by Henry Talbot and Charles Blake and that – oh, whatever his name was…"

"Honestly, I stopped paying attention after awhile. I can't even remember which one it was that irritated me the most."

Cora smiled, "Exactly, they're all interchangeable at some point."

"Cora, I still don't know what you're getting at and honestly, it's worrying me."

"Robert, think back to that time, it wasn't that long ago, when Mary was being surrounded by suitors. All the Tony Gillinghams and Charles Blakes and Henry Talbots… would any of us ever even think of Tom as a suitor?"

"Of course not," Robert answered automatically.

Cora nodded to herself. "And here we are now. Not that much later… Mary has dismissed them all. And now everyone – including you – thinks that Tom's the one she should marry. All of us!"

Robert looked at his wife silently for a while. "Are you suggesting that he planned this from the very beginning?"

A very slow smile crept over Cora's face. "Remember what Mary told us that night? That Tom didn't accept her rejection. He said he'd wait."

"I do remember that," Robert said slowly.

"Think of it, Robert. It does seem like him, doesn't it? That man always has a plan. And he can be patient. Isn't that what he told Mary he'd be? And ever since that night… one by one, he has won us all over. Me, you, Edith, probably Bertie… It wouldn't surprise me if your mother was already on his side as well!" She laughed. "This is a work of art," she sat back and smiled to herself. "I can't help but admire it."

Robert was too stunned to respond. All he could do was lay back on the pillows and wonder at his wife's assessment.

Finally he spoke. "You may well be right. But there's one person he still hasn't won over."

Cora nodded. "Mary."


	24. London

Mary had spent the entire month of November trying NOT to be upset about Tom's proposal. She hadn't succeeded. She just could not understand his behavior, and seeing him acting so cheerful and carefree every day was making her more and more crazy. Night after restless night, she couldn't sleep, she couldn't relax, she finally decided that enough was enough. She made a resolution.

The following morning, as Anna was dressing her, she announced her decision. "I'm sorry to upset your schedule, Anna, but I've decided to go to London."

"London?" Anna repeated. "When?"

"This afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Anna was so surprised she couldn't even come up with a reaction.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I know it's a bother for you, but I can't stand being in this house any longer. I simply have to get away for a couple of days."

"I do understand, milady," Anna said with some sympathy. "Will we be staying with Lady Rosamund?"

"She's out of town but she won't mind," Mary decided aloud.

"Isn't this rather a sudden scheme?" Anna asked.

"Yes, it is," Mary agreed. "But my mind is completely made up."

"Alright," Anna said slowly. "I will start making arrangements."

"Thank you, Anna. And tell Bates I'm sorry that I'm stealing his wife away – but I promise it won't be for very long."

"He won't mind," Anna tried to make light of the situation. "A few days for him to smoke in the house and leave dirty dishes lying around, it will probably do him good."

"Excellent." Mary smiled in the mirror as it was all settled. She left the room to announce her decision to the family.

Anna watched her go in wonder. She sat down on the bed and thought it all over. London. Lady Mary is leaving for London. Now. No plans, just going. She thought over what her husband had said to her... Tom Branson was probably still in love with Lady Mary, and enjoyed watching her go crazy. Well, if that is his plan, he seems to be succeeding...

* * *

"Today? You're leaving for London today?" Tom asked, as soon as Mary had given her announcement to him and her parents.

"Yes. Anna is making the arrangements as we speak, I intend to catch the three o'clock."

"When will you be back?" her mother asked.

"I don't really know," Mary answered. "I just want to take a few days, clear my head, and take a break from work and everything." Both of her parents' eyes traveled to Tom.

"Well," Tom said, clearing his throat and willing himself to smile. "We'll all miss you."

"Thank you, Tom," she responded without emotion. "I'm sure you can carry on the management duties without me?" it wasn't really a question, more of an assumption.

"I'll do my best," he answered readily.

"Good. Well then, if you will excuse me, I have a few preperations to make and I will be on my way." With that she excused herself from the room and returned upstairs. Her family all stared at each other in amazement.

"Well," Tom said as cheerfully as he could manage, "I suppose that's settled." He bowed and left the room. Robert and Cora watched him go.

"Robert," Cora said quietly, what do you make of that?" she asked.

"I don't know," her husband answered honestly. "But why do I feel as though a bomb is about to drop?"

* * *

Mary arrived in London with little fanfare. She and Anna went to Rosamund's house and made themselves perfectly at home.

Anna was more than a little disturbed by these actions. She did not like being away from her husband, particularly when Lady Mary was acting strange. And at Lady Rosamund's house she had no confidantes to talk to. All she could do was just watch and wonder.

Mary spent her first two days in London shopping and visiting the theatre. There was a production of Oiver Twist with some newcomer named John Gielgud that seemed to be all the rage… but Anna could tell beneath it all Mary was painfully unhappy. She was putting on a show of being on holiday, even for her benefit. Anna didn't believe it for a minute. Lady Mary was not happy, and she wasn't doing a good job of hiding it.


	25. At the Savoy

Edith and Bertie had been enjoying themselves in London for the past several weeks. Things were going well for them and they were constantly at each other's sides most evenings. One night, as they were enjoying a late supper at the Savoy, Edith noticed her elder sister walk in.

"Mary!" she exclaimed in honest surprise.

"Oh, Edith," Mary didn't hide her annoyance well. "And Lord Hexham, how nice." Bertie stood up to acknowledge her.

"I didn't know you were coming to London," Edith said.

"It was a sort of a whim," she answered.

"How long are you here for?" Bertie asked.

"I'm not quite sure actually," Mary answered. She looked frustrated, and wasn't hiding it well. Bertie and Edith both noticed.

A waiter appeared, noticing that Mary had stopped following him. "This way, milady," he said gently.

"Would you care to join us?" Bertie gallently offered.

"No, no, please, I don't mean to interrupt. Have a lovely evening." She nodded and went to her own table.

"That was odd," Edith thought aloud as she watched her sister sit down across the room.

"Edith, don't start," Bertie advised.

"I'm not doing anything," she defended herself. "But why is she in London, and why did she come down here without telling me?"

"Edith…" Bertie warned.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But something's not right." She looked as though she wanted to go talk to Mary, but Bertie caught her hand.

"Not now," he advised. "Don't let it ruin our evening. We'll say goodbye before we leave, then you can call on her in the morning."

"Yes, perhaps you're right," she agreed. She still kept glancing over to look at her sister, but tried to take his advice. Bertie noted that she spent the rest of the evening alternatively discussing the play they'd just seen and wondering aloud about Mary's mysterious arrival. He realized she couldn't help it, and with much grace and patience, encouraged her to finish the meal quickly. With some relief on Edith's end, they approached Mary's table.

"Ah, have you enjoyed your meal?" she asked, feigning interest.

"We did, thank you," Bertie answered.

"How nice," she glanced at her own plate.

"We don't mean to interrupt, we just wanted to say goodnight," Edith said. "I take it you're staying at Rosamund's?"

"Yes I am. Goodnight, Edith. Lord Hexham." She nodded.

"Lady Mary," Bertie bowed and ushered Edith from the restaurant. Edith looked back once and noticed that Mary had already turned her complete attention back to her dinner. It bothered her that Mary was here. But she resolved to follow Bertie's advice and pay a visit on her sister in the morning... after she had some time to consider what she wanted to ask and what she wanted to say.

* * *

The next morning Mary was sitting in Rosamund's parlor, looking over the local events, trying to decide which activity in London would keep her occupied that afternoon, when Rosamund's butler announced her sister's arrival.

"Oh, Edith," she pretended to be happy, but didn't succeed very well. "How nice to see you again so soon." She clearly didn't mean it.

"Mary," Edith acknowledged.

"Would you care for some tea? I've already finished my breakfast, but –"

"No thank you," Edith interrupted. "I don't need tea or breakfast. I came to talk to you."

"So I gathered," Mary said evenly. "What is it you want?" she asked with feigned indifference.

"Mary, what in the world are you doing here?" Edith burst out with her main question.

Mary looked at her younger sister angrily. "Not that it's any of your business, but I came to enjoy the city. Go shopping, see the shows, is that not allowed in your world? I wasn't aware that you own all of London."

"I don't believe you for a minute," Edith declared, standing her ground. "Nobody decides to suddenly travel from Yorkshire to London in November to see the sights."

"It's cold in Yorkshire too," Mary pointed out.

"What are you running away from?" she accused.

"I'm not running away from anything, Edith," she snapped. "I suppose it was just plain boredom. You have relocated to London, perhaps I should too," she thought aloud. Voicing a plan that she had been mulling over for the past few days.

"Move to London?" Edith was stunned at the idea. Mary shrugged, but Edith was truly gobsmacked. She slowly sat down as she processed the information. "But – but what about George?"

"I'm sure George would love to grow up in a big city," Mary said. "His father grew up in one, afterall."

"You're really thinking of taking George away from Downton and moving here?" she couldn't believe it.

"I don't know. I haven't decided. Just one of many possibilities that I'm considering."

"Well… Mary," she shook her head, "that is the stupidist thing I've ever heard you say," she almost smiled at how ridiculous the idea was.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Edith."

"No, but you're going to get it. For better or worse I'm your sister and I won't let you do something so completely idiotic."

"Oh, so it's alright for you to do it, but when I think of doing it I'm idiotic? You just don't want me here on your territory, admit it."

"No," Edith shook her head. "It isn't that at all. London is certainly big enough for the two of us… it's just…" she didn't finish her thought right away. Mary waited, and Edith looked at her sister seriously. "You belong at Downton. You always have. More so than any of us."

Mary looked out the windows and didn't answer.

"What is this really about?" Edith asked. "You don't want to move to London. You don't even like London that much. What is going on?"

"None of your business, Edith."

"I think I can guess what is behind all of this," Edith said slowly. "It's not London at all. You're running away from Tom."

Mary shivered just enough at his name to confirm Edith's suspicions, but recovered quickly. "Why on earth would I run away from Tom?"

"Oh Mary," Edith sighed, "sooner or later you're going to have to admit that you're in love with him."


	26. Aunt Rosamund's

Mary looked at her sister with such anger and venom that Edith nearly shivered. Although Edith knew she was in the right, her elder sister could be very intimidating, and right now Mary was doing her best to keep that up.

"As usual you have it backwards," Mary said, squaring her shoulders. "It was the other way around." She paused. "Tom was in love with me," she admitted with just a hint of sadness in her voice.

"So it was completely one-sided then?" Edith pressed. "You never felt anything for him in return?" She would never believe that for a second, but she was curious to see just how far Mary's denial would go.

"I am **NOT** having this conversation with you," Mary snapped.

"You have to have it with someone, Mary. You've spent the past few months shutting everyone out – no one can talk to you!"

"Edith, I've warned you before," Mary was deadly serious. " **STAY OUT OF MY LIFE**."

Edith took a moment and swallowed, deciding not to let her elder sister shake her confidence. "You cannot frighten me," she declared. "I told Bertie about Marigold weeks ago."

Mary was visibly startled. "You did?"

"Yes. And he loves me anyway, so don't you dare attempt to blackmail me." Edith stood tall in her self-confidence. She was aware that she had taken away the one trump card her sister thought she still held.

Mary was visibly rattled. "When… when did you tell him?"

"That's a different conversation," she said firmly. "We were talking about Tom."

"I'm not going to discuss Tom with _you_ ," Mary insisted with even a bit of a sneer.

"I really think you should," Edith persisted, even as Mary attempted to leave the room.

"Why?" she asked without turning around.

"Because…" Edith grasped for words, "Sybil was my sister too!" she called out in sudden desperation. She hadn't planned the words, they just sprang out of her.

Mary stood completely still, her back still turned. Edith instantly regretted what she'd said.

Slowly, very slowly, Mary turned around.

"What," she asked very slowly and very angrily, "does Sybil have to do with any of this?" she dared Edith to answer.

Edith took a second and closed her eyes, willing herself to gather the courage she needed. Mary was doing her very best to intimidate her, but Edith couldn't – _she just couldn't_ – let her win. Not this time. She had thought over it and over it the night before, and she knew that the only way to get through to Mary was to beat her at her own game. She'd have to fight intimidation with intimidation.

Edith slowly opened her eyes and met her sister with an equally solid stare. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," she declared.

"Oh, I see," Mary sneered. "This is just how accomodating we Crawley girls are. One of us dies, so Tom Branson marries the next sister. I suppose when I go, you'll have to marry him too," she glared.

"Mary, that's disgusting."

"I agree. The whole thing is disgusting. So let's not pursue this topic any further."

"You're being absurd and you're doing it completely on purpose," Edith accused. "You are making up any preposterous argument you can come up with so you don't have to talk about what's really bothering you."

Mary was taken aback at just how correctly her sister had read her. Edith could see that Mary's steel defenses were starting to crack. Mary looked around the room stupidly for a minute, then sat down on a chair. "Alright, what is really bothering me, prey? All-knowing sister of mine?" she responded with sarcasm, but Edith could tell she was really listening.

"Mary," Edith sat down in the next chair, "you are in love with Tom. Don't even bother to deny it," she held up her hand, "we can all see it. We've all been able to see it for months now."

Mary paused for a moment before responding. "If that were true, I would have accepted him then, wouldn't I?" she countered. "I thought you said you knew what was bothering me."

"I think that _is_ what's bothering you," Edith said seriously, but not without some sympathy. "I think it bothers you that you're in love with him."

"That doesn't make any sense," Mary shook her head, her frosty exterior rising again.

"Doesn't it?" Edith quickly countered. "You don't like that you've fallen in love with Sybil's husband."

"No," Mary shook her head. "I'm not talking about this with you. You know nothing about my feelings. You… you don't know…"

"I dare say I knew Sybil as well as you, Mary. And I think she'd be more than a little annoyed with your using her as an excuse."

"An excuse? She was my sister!"

"She was my sister too," Edith snapped back.

Mary shook her head. "For God's sake, what do you WANT me to say? I've never been your confidante before, Edith, and you've certainly never been mine."

"That's beside the point," Edith dismissed her objection. She had known before she'd entered the house that morning that Mary would put up every roadblock she could to keep her off-track. She couldn't let that happen, she had to stay focused.

"What was the point then, Edith?" Mary bit back.

"Perhaps I'm wrong," Edith offered. "Maybe Sybil has nothing to do with this… but why then did you refuse Tom when you're so obviously in love with him?"

Mary didn't answer right away. Edith watched as Mary decided to herself how much she wanted to reveal.

"Even if I were," she said carefully but with honest unhappiness, "you're forgetting one very important fact."

Edith waited.

Mary sighed, looking out the windows. "Tom's not in love with me anymore."

That honestly surprised Edith. "What?"

"It's obvious. Tom no longer has any interest in me. I'm all but invisible to him now."

"I sincerely doubt that," Edith said.

"You haven't been home, Edith. You haven't seen what it's been like. He hasn't said one word of love to me in almost two months. It's as if what happened between us only exists in my memory – he's already put it behind him."

"I… I really have a hard time believing that."

"You can believe what you like, I really don't care," Mary stood up, her anger returning.

"You really think that Tom no longer loves you?" Edith couldn't quite comprehend it.

"Yes," Mary seethed, wishing she'd left the room ten minutes ago when she'd first attempted it.

"You're wrong," a familiar Irish voice came from the hall.


End file.
